a senryu
Let’s not worry about it, Dearie, life gets better, life gets worse. We’re no different than the seasons of the year except we’re luckier than most having
If he were perfect he wouldn’t be Dan the Handyman, laying tile in crooked rows,
Mike’s old now. His mind is somewhere in the Fifties. Every few weeks one of his kids takes
They’re widows, old and gray, bent over a quilting frame, sewing to meet a deadline for the next raffle
Where did it go? I really don’t know. I lost it weeks ago in the middle of the night. Too tired to get up.
Her corded belt python tight around a tiny waist makes her blooms bigger brighter as they unfold
Used to be after a snow our doorbell would ring and we’d find boys with shovels in hand looking to make some money.
This Monarch butterfly dances from petal to petal red, yellow and orange sits for a while on each and then
I understand what you mean when you say you’re alone and hope someone rings your bell day or night but that’s not the case with me.
July in the streets of Mexico City: One of the women one never would marry. One of the women one sees
When we were kids growing up in the city we had prairies and a little hill and we’d put Stevie
The other day I was talking to a neighbor who said he has found a way to help the poor and improve our environment simultaneously. It’s no secret, he said, that we have a dire food shor...
Sagebrush on Broadway a Big Mac wrapper tumbles softly down the street Donal Mahoney
Old Yoshiko in Tokyo can’t sleep because her husband snores so she sits in her kimono and eats a few rice cakes with a few sips of saké.
All that hair trapped in a braid silver to the waist Opal this morning nude in the mirror
